Babies

My son turned one-month old yesterday.

And he still doesn’t do a single thing around the house.

Well, a single thing other than eat (apparently whenever he feels moved), and speaking of movement, he does a few other things that will remained unmentioned here.

Mostly he just lays around, alternating between the swing, the bed, and the baby recliner thingie, so long as someone else picks him up and puts him there. He cries until you pick him up and hold him for a few minutes. Then he stops.

He won’t help set the table or clear it off at meal time. He won’t even take his own clothes off, wash himself, or anything.

This is very time-consuming for us adults (by which I mostly mean momma … Okay, I entirely mean momma) because he requires everything be done for him whenever he wants it, and does nothing to help anyone  else out. And he cries until someone gets him what he wants, which takes that someone away from other things they need to be doing.

And this reminds me why the Scripture uses “baby” as a metaphor for some Christians.

Here’s my advice to you, if you are a time-consuming, lay-around-the-church, expecting-everything-to-be-done-for-you-while-contributing-nothing-in-terms-of-real ministry kind of Christian: GROW UP ALREADY.

Quit being a baby.

I’ll tolerate it from my son for a few more days. But that’s because he’s cute. You’re not. So stop doing nothing.

For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you have need again for someone to teach you the elementary principles of the oracles of God, and you have come to need milk and not solid food.  For everyone who partakes only of milk is not accustomed to the word of righteousness, for he is an infant. But solid food is for the mature, who because of practice have their senses trained to discern good and evil.  (Hebrews 5:12-14)

Struggling is Good

My daughter has been crying a lot lately. She has been sick for a week, with a temperature approaching 104. She is finally getting better.

It reminds me of the early days of my son’s life. I found out that I am a worrier. I used to go in and check on him several times a night to make sure he was okay … still breathing … not on his stomach … you know, all those things. With Elyse, I haven’t been nearly so worried. Which itself worries me. I am either much more trusting or calloused perhaps.

But I am reminded of what I used to say about my son: “When he's crying, he's not dead.” (Seriously, I actually thought that.)

Strange? Perhaps, but comforting to me.

So what’s the point?

I don’t mind people who struggle spiritually. Their "crying" doesn't bother me. It tells me their not dead spiritually.

Yes, it’s a little obnoxious sometimes, because they take a lot of my time, time that I would like to spend on me.

And yes, sometimes, it gets a bit old.

And inconvenient.

But when they’re struggling, they’re not dead.

As I often say, It’s not the people who struggle that I worry about. It is the people who don’t struggle.